Carry
“No! No! You promised!” Yan cried as Josef and his fellow officers interrupted the funeral procession, pulled him aside and put him in handcuffs: “I told you I’ll come over when this is done! You promised!”
“Sorry Yan, but you’re a flight risk.” Josef shook his head as he pushed Yan towards a squad car parked on the side of the road. Light yellow paper coins danced in the sky with the night breeze under the full moon, the people in the procession were whispering to each other. The smell of burning incense and paper money filled the air, making a few of the officers cough.
The man leading the procession, covered in makeup, in a strange Taoist robe, carrying a sword made of peachwood and copper coins rushed towards the squad car and tried to stop them: “Officers, please, you can’t do this. We’re almost at our destination, he’s the nephew, can you just let him finish?”
“Sorry, Sifu. But we can’t do that.” Josef shook his head and closed the car door.
“But this will bring about terrible omens! This is…” Josef heard only part of the protest from the man in Taoist robe, as he drove away without much hesitation.
“You’re making a grave mistake. I would have come to you.” Yan kept repeating this even when he was thrown into the holding cell.
“Other officers have lives and families too, you know.” Josef shook his head on the other side of the bars: “Just keep quiet and we can talk things through tomorrow. Tonight’s just gonna be you and me.”
Yan sat on the floor, staring at Josef. Josef had no time nor energy to decipher his looks, a whole week of long days was no fun for anyone.
While pouring himself a cup of tea and making a bowl of instant noodles, Josef twisted his neck left and right, then rubbed his right shoulder. One common effect of overworking was having sore shoulders, which somehow felt extra stressed and heavy now.
When he came back to his desk, he saw that Yan had curled up on the ground, asleep. And around him were several red symbols, written in some kind of red ink. He immediately came closer, and noticed that Yan’s left middle finger was bandaged up with a touch of red seeping through the cloth.
“What the fuck? Wake up you superstitious weirdo!” Josef banged on the bars: “You’re gonna have to clean those up!”
A chill breeze blew through the hall, along came the chant of several children’s voices in unison: “Three is square, nine is round. The lost need to soon be found. Two is high, eight is low, off to the bridge you will go.”
Four children, in red liturgical clothes carrying lanterns in their hands and with red dots painted on their cheeks chanted, danced and hopped through the closed doors into the hallway. They then passed by Josef’s side and disappeared into the inner parts of the station. Josef’s body froze, while his eyes followed the trail of the four children. Then he heard the footsteps of another two individuals from the closed door. He turned again, hand on his gun holster.
Two men walked in, through the closed door just like the children. One tall, in a white robe and a white bullet-shaped tall hat. One short, in a black robe and a black tall hat of the same shape and size. Both of them had their eyes fixated on Josef. The tall one was smiling, with his long tongue dangling before his chest; the short one’s eyes were bulging with a frown on his face.
“Shit!” Josef immediately turned around and ran into the inner part of the station. There was a door to the back of the station, he needed to get out of here, now.
He made a turn in the hallway and almost banged into the windows. It hurt, but he had to keep going. He was a police officer, but he was never trained to deal with situations like this. He was never trained to deal with things like this. The soreness on his back and shoulders got worse, and it seemed there were small puffs of cold air blowing on his right ear and cheek.
Black and White Wuchang, finder and escorter of souls according to legend. But why would they come here? Why would they come for him? He had no time to ponder this, he must get away from this place first. The backdoor was just one turn away.
“... the lost need to soon be found!” The short man in black appeared right in front of him, with a chained sickle in his hands.
Josef had almost slid on the ground, and when he looked back, he saw the tall man in white had already caught up to him from the back, holding two batons covered in pale white feathers.
“Gah!” A cold metal chain wrapped around Josef’s waist and swung him against the window. His forehead bumped into it and bounced backwards. And for but one mere moment, he saw his own reflection in the window.
There was a face right over his right shoulder. Not of either of the two Wuchang, but one of a pale old man with some resemblance to Yan. The old man stared at Josef’s eyes through the reflection, his arms crossed before Josef’s chest, and as he breathed and sighed, foggy cold breezes swept through the right side of his neck and his right cheek.
“Off to the bridge you will go.” The two men came behind Josef and they placed their hands on the old man’s shoulder at the same time. The old man sighed for the one last time, let go of Josef and let the two Wuchang pulled him away.
The four children danced and chanted, bringing their lanterns with them. The old man, with a hunched back and trembling legs, walked away holding the two Wuchang’s hands.
Listen to this story brought to life by the ever so talented Ian Kirkpattiecake!: